


Tangerine

by Briar Rose (Byrcca)



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M, Golden Oldies, K-Tel Album fics, Proto P/T
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 07:45:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19224754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Byrcca/pseuds/Briar%20Rose
Summary: Pure senseless self-indulgence set between Tattoo and Cold Fire, I reckon. Originally posted March 2006.





	Tangerine

**Author's Note:**

> Original Author’s Note: Did any of you ever own a K-Tel Original Hits by Original Stars album – yes, vinyl – when you were a kid? I did, long lost now, alas. One of the songs on it was titled ‘Tangerine’. I don’t remember the band, or the lyrics, just the disco beat and the singer saying the word over and over. And that’s about as much of an explanation you’re going to get. 
> 
> For some reason K-Tel albums remind me of Tom Paris. 
> 
> Update: I have discovered the album online: K-Tel Disco released in Canada in 1976. I remember dancing to it with my friends in my fake-wood-panelled basement reckroom. Whoop! And the band that performed the song is the Salsoul Orchestra (not Led Zeplin). I must come up with something for the rest of the songs.

 

~~ 

Her bones ached. Her hair ached. Of course, that was generally what happened when you pulled three double shifts in a row. Double-and-a-half, actually, but who was counting? Everything on the ship was working up to spec or better now, including the temperamental replicators. There was nothing left to fix. So now what? B’Elanna was tired, but she’d been coasting on adrenaline for so long that she couldn’t wind down. Didn’t want to wind down. She wanted another project. 

She strode into the mess hall and glanced around, feeling ready to pounce. Tom and Harry had claimed a table near the viewport; a two-seater, but she could muscle in on the end. She wanted to speak to Harry about an idea that had been nagging at the back of her mind: the feasibility of warp ten. And, actually, Tom Paris being here was a bonus. Who better to bounce ideas off than the ship’s chief pilot? 

A glance toward the kitchen confirmed what her nose had told her when she walked in the mess: leola root surprise. Blech. After three days of working non-stop, she figured she deserved better than that! In fact, she decided to treat herself. After all, the replicators were working, and she had rations to spare. A long, drawn out conversation with the replicator produced fried chicken, Singapore noodles, and a large mug of raktajino with whipped cream and shaved chocolate. Never let it be said she was above rewarding herself with food. 

“…in for one hell of a ride. Of course, I don’t think he believed me at the time. I wish I could have seen his face when he finally got his chance in her!” 

“We’re a few hundred light-years closer to Earth, you could try giving him a call on subspace,” Harry chuckled. 

B’Elanna strode up to them and frowned. She’d caught Paris in the middle of a story, and his words brought a sharp wave of irritation. She slid her tray onto the table, smacking his in the process, and hooked a chair from the long table behind her. “Discussing old girlfriends?” she asked. She noticed there was more than a little venom in her voice and put it down to nerves. 

Tom’s face coloured and he caught his coffee cup before it sloshed its contents onto the table. “Old shuttles, actually.” 

“Good.” She cocked her head. He actually looked affronted. So what, she thought. About time someone took him down a peg. She didn’t like him. She’d work with him if she had to, but… “How fast did that shuttle go?” 

Tom sat back in his chair, and his shoulders relaxed. “Faster than she looked,” he replied. He was curious, she could tell, and she liked the idea of dragging this out: playing with him, getting his curiosity up before she let the cat out of the bag. 

“Actually, that does sound like one of your old girlfriends,” Harry drawled. 

Tom ignored the jibe, but B’Elanna couldn’t fight the grin that broke from her lips. Tom grinned back at her, his eyes dancing. “What is this about?” 

God, he’s good-looking, B’Elanna thought. Too damn good-looking. 

“Yeah, what’s in that head of yours, B’Elanna? I can almost see the gears turning.” Harry twirled his index finger in a tight circle beside his temple as he leaned toward her. His question pulled her attention away from Tom’s eager expression. 

She lifted a PADD from her tray. “Warp ten. I think it’s possible, and I think we can reconfigure Voyager’s engines to do it!” 

Harry pursed his lips and whistled. “I dunno.” 

Tom grabbed the PADD from her hand and thumbed it on. “Lemmie see.” He started to scroll through her notes, and she snatched the PADD back. 

Harry was shaking his head. “We’d have to reconfigure more than the engines: the shields, main deflector dish, Bussard collectors.” 

“Come on, Harry, dream a little.” Tom tried for the PADD again, but B’Elanna outmaneuvered him. He pinned her with a look. “Share, Torres.” 

Irritation flashed in his eyes, and she gloried in it. Hah! He was hooked. That was easy. She shook her head; waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “It’s just a few notes. Nothing concrete. I haven’t had the chance to give it my full attention.” 

“I know you, Torres. You can give your full attention to ten things at once. Lemmie see!” 

He looked like he was about to wrestle her for the PADD. She’d like to see him try! He made another grab, and she pulled her arm behind her back. “Watch it!” Harry yelped. 

Tom rose a little in his chair, his mouth stretching in a slow grin. “I never took you for a tease, B’Elanna.” 

His voice was quiet and tinged with surprise. He sounded delighted. Her body warmed in response to his words, damn him! She felt her face flush. Her mouth dropped open, but before she could form a reply, Neelix was at her elbow. 

“Ah-hah, if it isn’t the woman of the hour!” 

“Wha… what?” 

Neelix leaned in, forcing Tom to straighten in his chair and abandon their wrestling match. “And partaking of a victory dinner, I see,” Neelix continued. 

“What are you talking about?” 

“Oh, it’s all right. I quite understand that you’d want to try out the replicators after you spent so long working on them. And your meal does look delicious.” He rocked back on his heels, clearly delighted about something. 

She stared at him for a few moments, but he continued to rock and grin. “Neelix, what’s going on?” She turned her head slightly and peered toward the galley. “Do you have a burner that’s out? Something that needs my attention?” 

“Oh no, everything is running smoothly. So smoothly in fact, that I thought a reward was required. A little something to show my appreciation.” 

Visions of Leola root surprise à la mode danced in her head. “Oh, Neelix, that’s not really necessary.” 

“Of course it is! Why, without you, we’d be dead in space. ‘Stuck in the water’, eh, Tom?” 

Tom’s eyebrows drew together in a question. B’Elanna wasn’t sure what was going on, either, but Neelix speaking in twentieth century colloquialisms gave her an intense desire to back-pedal. “I have a large staff, Neelix. It’s not as if I do all the wor–” 

“But you’re always right there, up to your elbows in circuits and isolinear chips. Why, if we can’t find Lieutenant Torres, everyone knows to just look for a pair of boots sticking out of a hatch somewhere, and there you’ll be!” 

Paris snorted and B’Elanna threw him a glare. People were starting to take an interest in them. They were starting to stare. “You could try my office,” she muttered. 

“In any event,” Neelix continued, “as a token of my appreciation, I’ve decided that you deserve this!” He pulled something from behind his back and set it on the table with a flourish. 

Her gaze traveled to the small round fruit squatting conspicuously in front of her. Its skin was a mottled green and orange, with streaks of red blossoming downward from the stem. Truth be told, it didn’t look very appetizing, but B’Elanna knew that the flesh was sweet and juicy if you didn’t mind the seeds. “An orange? Gee, thanks, Neelix.” 

“Oh, not just any orange,” Neelix pronounced, “the last orange. Well, not technically the last since we can replicate as many as we want now. And the trees that Kes planted will probably be mature enough to fruit in five or six years, but that doesn’t really matter. This is the last of the original container of oranges that we picked up in New Berlin. It was so kind of Mister Evansville and his people to give us all that fresh food. Of course, I did think it would last a little longer than it did, but no matter. That’s what replicators are for, right?” 

B’Elanna sat in silence, staring at him. 

“Go on,” Neelix encouraged. “Eat up. I know they’re one of your favourites.” 

She poked at the fruit with an index finger and it rolled across the surface of the table. “Let me get this straight, this is the last one; the last piece of fresh fruit from the planet with the ‘37’s?” 

“Um hmm.” Neelix nodded and smiled benevolently. 

B’Elanna darted a quick glance around the mess hall. “I don’t think so. Thanks.” At Neelix’ crestfallen expression, she quickly added, “I mean, I appreciate the gesture, but really, it’s not necessary.” 

“Oh, but I think it is! And I’m sure everyone would agree with me.” He turned slightly, gesturing to the room. “Why, without your engineering expertise, we wouldn’t even have made it to that planet. We’d still be stuck at the Caretaker’s array with nothing but impulse engines.” 

“I wouldn’t go that far. Joe and –” 

“Well, I would! And you know it’s the darnedest thing. I had just picked up that orange, and I was wondering if I should squeeze the juice and add it to tomorrow’s casserole, when there you were.” 

“There I was?” 

“Um hmm. Right in my line of sight. And I thought who better to be the recipient of the last orange than you, our chief engineer. So I just marched right on over here, and here you go.” 

“So you’re saying you acted on impulse.” 

“Why, yes!” Neelix rocked back on his heels again, delighted. “A little pun. That’s very funny, Tom. ‘Acting on impulse, flying with impulse engines.’ That was very good. Hmm.” 

Neelix smiled at the room a second time and B’Elanna fought the urge to slide under the table. Tom’s mouth had quirked into a little grin. Damn him, he was enjoying this! She glared at him again, and then turned her attention back to Neelix. “I… don’t know what to say.” 

She shot a glance at Harry – help me! – and he rolled his eyes. He’d watched the whole proceedings without comment. “Just say ‘thank you’,” he advised. 

B’Elanna nodded. “Thank you. Neelix.” 

He stood there, looking like he was expecting something more. After a moment, he gave himself a little shake. It reminded B’Elanna of a colourful little bird shaking out its feathers. “Yes. Well. I’ll let you three get on with it. Bon appétit!” 

She shut her eyes and groaned. 

“Well, if you don’t want it, I’ll take it,” Tom chirped. He reached for the orange, but B’Elanna snatched it up before he could. 

“No way. You’d just use it to… to… seduce a Delaney sister, or something.” 

Tom looked at her, clearly shocked and a little hurt by her words, and she felt immediately chagrined. 

“Yeah, or something,” he said. “I’ve got to go. I’ve got something to do. See you later, Harry. Let me know if you want to work seriously on that warp ten, Torres.” 

Tom picked up his tray and disappeared. Harry watched him go, and then raised an eyebrow at B’Elanna. “That was unnecessary.” 

B’Elanna sighed. “I don’t like him.” It sounded petulant, even to her. 

“Uh huh.” 

“I’m sorry, all right.” 

“I’m not the one you owe an apology to. Eat your orange before you insult someone else.” 

She slumped in her seat, suddenly exhausted. She’d lost her appetite. 

~~ 

It sat on the corner of her desk, a small, mute reminder of her shame. 

Okay, maybe that was a little overly dramatic, but Neelix’s public praise had embarrassed her and as a result she’d snapped at Tom Paris, hurting his feelings. That had surprised her, actually. Up until last night, she hadn’t been aware that he had feelings to hurt. No, that wasn’t true. He’d been kind, sweet even, during that incident with the Vidiians. And if she were to be honest with herself, she’d accept the fact that that was why she was so standoffish with him now. She didn’t want to think of him as being a person, a decent guy, like Harry. She preferred the old Tom Paris: the arrogant, womanizing jerk who strutted around Voyager like an alley cat on the prowl. 

No more thoughts about Tom Paris. And certainly no more thoughts of Tom Paris, nice guy. She eyed the orange with a mixture of suspicion and annoyance. It sat there, ignorant of its ugliness, looking downright… perky. Eager. Not unlike Neelix himself, she mused. Who was being catty now? 

Enough! Her eyes strayed to the PADD in her hand. Warp Ten. That was the reason why she was hiding in her office, brooding about Paris the Pilot. If only he worked in waste disposal, she thought. Then she wouldn’t have to consult with him on this project. And he was obviously eager to help, which meant she’d have to get her butt in gear and figure out something to show to him. She could just imagine his snippy comments if she’d let him read the – 

“Lieutenant, I have the –” 

She yelped and jerked upright, almost jumping out of her skin. “Vorik!” 

“Lieutenant?” 

Her heart was pounding, and she let out a slow breath. “Ensign,” she acknowledged. There. Her voice sounded a little steadier. What she could hear over the pounding in her ears. “Is that the systems report?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

He handed it over, and she stifled a wince. Ma’am. Erg. A cursory glance showed all systems were operating within normal parameters. Power output was good, warp field excellent, replicators still working. It was great. She glanced up. 

“You’re still here.” 

Vorik nodded once. “Yes,” he confirmed. 

She waited, but when no clue was forthcoming after a few seconds, she cracked. “What? What is it?” 

His eyes strayed to her desk. “You have not eaten your orange, Lieutenant.” 

How the hell did he… She casually shrugged a shoulder. Tried to look nonchalant. “No, are you hungry? If you want it, take it.” 

He managed to look as horrified as a Vulcan possibly could. “I could not do that.” 

B’Elanna pulled back, startled by his suppressed vehemence. “Why not?” She motioned toward the orange with the PADD in her hand. “Go ahead.” 

“Neelix wanted you to have it. It’s yours. I could never take it from you.” 

She frowned and sucked a breath. “How did you hear about that?” 

“Crewman Henley mentioned that she had overheard Ensign Tabor discussing it with Crewman Jor.” 

Her hand shot out to stop the litany. “Enough, thank you.” Damn. It was all around the ship by now. You can’t even have dinner on this ship without everyone talking about it! She frowned mightily and clamped her lips together. Luckily, Vorik was made of stern stuff; he was unmoved. “Are you sure you don’t want it? I’m really stuffed from breakfast.” 

“Actually, Lieutenant, citrus fruits react with my –” 

“Fine. Great. Thanks for the report.” It was her version of a dismissal and, thankfully, Vorik was fluent in Torres. Her eyes slid back to the officious little fruit. Now what? 

~~ 

“Did you eat it yet?” 

She turned and straightened, putting a concealing hand to the pocket of her engineering smock. Harry. She set down her hyperspanner and crossed her arms under her breasts, knowing exactly what he was talking about. 

“Why is everyone so concerned about that damn orange? Should I call everyone to main engineering and eat it like a… a… public execution?” 

“I don’t think the whole crew would fit. Maybe in the shuttlebay?” 

“Very funny.” 

“Why are you so stressed out about this?” 

Harry’s voice was light but she could hear his undertone of concern. ‘Yes!’ She wanted to shout, ‘Yes, the orange is making me unhinged. Call the doctor and have me put on light duty for a month until I stabilize. Plenty of tea and leola mush, but cut out all citrus.’ 

“I’m not stressed. I’m just not hungry right now. Why are you so interested?” 

Harry shrugged and pointed to her coat pocket. “You’re carrying it with you like… like a baby strapped to your back.” 

She sighed and looked at the ground. “More like an albatross around my neck.” 

“Well, you should either eat it or put it back in stasis before it sinks the ship. It won’t last forever.” 

“Unlike this conversation,” she muttered. 

“It’s an orange, B’Elanna, not a prickly-fruit.” 

“…meaning?” 

“Meaning this is getting a little strange. It’s been two days. People are starting to place bets on when you’ll finally tear it open. Will you be slow and methodical, tearing the peel in one long spiral, or will you use a bat’leth? There are even side bets on where you’ll be at the time, whether you’ll share it with anyone, how many sections it has. My money’s on,” he ticked off the words on his fingers, “next Tuesday, your office, Chakotay, ten sections.” 

She stared at him, flummoxed. “This is Tom Paris’ doing, isn’t it?” 

Harry closed his eyes and shook his head. “I was kidding, B’Elanna. A joke, you know?” 

She eyed him warily, not sure if she should believe him. 

“Tom has been wondering when we’re going to get together to talk about warp ten. He has some ideas.” 

“I’ll bet he does.” 

“All this muttering is new for you. I’m used to the straight-forward, shoot-from-the-hip, take-no-prisoners B’Elanna.” 

When she didn’t comment, he smiled. “He wants to know if you’ll meet us for dinner. Toss a few ideas around?” 

“Maybe. I’ll try. I’m not really there yet. It was just an idea.” 

“Well,” Harry replied, moving around the engineering station and heading toward the door, “Tom has enough ideas for all of us. We’ll meet you in the mess hall at nineteen hundred.” A little salute and the doors closed behind him. 

B’Elanna’s arms slid out of the tight knot she’d made of them, and her hand bumped that pocket again. Had Harry really been kidding about that bet? Or… Was it her imagination, or was everyone sneaking covert glances at her? She straightened her shoulders and marched into her office. 

~~ 

She finished with the check-list and tapped a few commands into the PADD before handing it to Carey. “A pretty light shift, all in all.” 

“I’m sure we can handle it,” Joe smiled. He took the proffered PADD. 

“Well, okay then,” B’Elanna said. She shoved her hands into her pockets and rocked back on her heels. “If you need anything clarified, you can com me.” 

“We’ll be fine, but I’ll keep that in mind.” 

His gaze strayed to her left pocket, and her fingers twitched involuntarily. They slid around the curve of the orange and she cupped it in her palm. Not that Joe had x-ray vision or anything. 

“Enjoy your evening, Lieutenant.” 

What did he mean by that? Did he know about her meal plans with Tom and Harry? No, if he had any idea, he’d want to get in on the session. Warp ten was an engineer’s dream. The unattainable goal. The Great Mystery of the Universe. 

She grunted in reply and headed for the lift. The orange thumped against her thigh as she walked, and she held it tightly against her leg. She was tempted to swing by the shuttlebay and space it! That would certainly solve the problem. She stepped into the lift and called for deck two. Lang and Henderson were inside. She said hello to them, then turned to face the doors. They were both reading the same PADD. Or so it appeared. She could feel their eyes on her back, felt the back of her neck prickle with their scrutiny. She resisted the urge to turn around and glare at them. 

They exited the lift on deck six, and she blew out a breath. Her fingers jerked inside her pocket, and with a snort of frustration she raised her chin and called an override. To hell with dinner, she was getting rid of this albatross once and for all. 

~~ 

She smacked the orange down on the desk with a satisfying thump. “You take it. I don’t want it.” 

Chakotay straightened in his seat and lowered the PADD he’d been reading. He gazed at the fruit a moment before raising his eyes to hers. 

“Why not?” 

“Every time I look at it, every time I walk past it, I… It’s… an accusation!” 

“B’Elanna, it’s an orange.” 

His tone was even, she’d give him that. She realized how ridiculous she must sound, and just maybe a little crazed besides. She certainly felt crazed. She shook her head. “No, it’s not. It’s a symbol. An extravagant, public gesture of praise, and I don’t want it.” 

“Don’t you think you deserve praise?” 

She wasn’t falling for that old dodge. “Everyone on this ship works hard, Chakotay. Above and beyond the call. You, me, Harry. Well, maybe not Chell.” 

Chakotay smiled. “Just like old times. And you never did know what to do with a compliment.” 

“My point is we all deserve praise.” 

He pointed to the orange and smiled. “I don’t think there’s enough to go around, do you?” 

She recognized the glint of humour in his eyes and snorted. This wasn’t funny, damn it! “I don’t know why Neelix would single me out, but believe me, I don’t want the gesture.” 

“So, give it to someone else.” 

“Be my guest.” 

He slowly reached for the fruit and cupped it in his large hand. He tossed it into the air, caught it and brought it to his nose. A little smile graced his mouth. 

“When I was a child, I read a story about a young girl.” 

B’Elanna suppressed the urge to sigh. She was anxious – jumpy – and definitely not in the mood for one of Chakotay’s stories. Where was a site-to-site transport when you needed one? 

“She lived with her parents, and her grandparents, a brother and a sister at the edge of vast forest. They were not wealthy by common standards, but they had land and livestock, food to eat, and they had each other, and that was enough.” 

“This is some allegory about Voyager, isn’t it? How we’re one big extended family in the middle of a huge forest of star systems,” B’Elanna cut in. She stared at him for a full ten seconds before giving up and waving her hand in a ‘go on’ gesture. 

Chakotay continued as if she hadn’t interrupted. “Late in the autumn, when the trees were bare of leaves and the air had turned crisp and cold, her father harnessed a horse to a wagon laden with the year’s harvest. He set out on a journey to the nearest city, a full week’s ride through the forest. The old year was almost gone, and soon the skies would open and cover the land with snow, and they would be unable to trade for supplies until spring.” 

“Chakotay.” B’Elanna tried to head him off before the father fell down the mountain pass and disappeared, leaving the family weeping and starving but ultimately happy when he returned mysteriously years later packing gold and gems from his trading adventures in the big seaport at the bottom of the mountain. “I really don’t –” 

“Just listen, B’Elanna. I do have a point.” He gestured to the empty chair facing him. 

“You usually do. I’m just wondering when you’re going to get to it. I have to be on-shift in ten hours.” 

He smiled benignly. “Sit and listen.” 

She flopped into the chair with a scowl. 

“The father was gone for many weeks. Her brother spent his time helping their grandfather in the barn, and her sister helped her mother and grandmother in the kitchen canning vegetables from the garden so they would have enough to see them through the winter. The girl tended their sheep and dreamed of life in the city at the other side of the forest. 

“Soon, their father returned from his journey, his cart laden with flour, sugars and spices, and fine cloth. For a special treat, he brought his family a small sack of an exotic fruit. Round and firm, with a thick, glossy orange skin, it reminded the girl of a harvest moon.” 

“An orange?” B’Elanna interrupted again. 

“It had come from a land far away, stored in the hold of a majestic sailing vessel that had put into port on the day her father arrived in the city.” 

“How did I know there’d be a seaport?” 

Chakotay cocked an eyebrow, and B’Elanna raised her hands in surrender. “All right. All right, I’m sorry. Go on.” 

“Her brother and sister ate their share with gusto, tearing the bright skin and biting into the sweet flesh until the juice ran down their chins. But the girl did not eat hers. She was mesmerized by the fruit. She had never seen anything like it. She liked to carry it in her pocket, and take it out to gaze at it when she was alone. She loved the smooth, firm feel of it in her hand, and the heavy weight of it in her pocket. At night, she would put it beside her pillow and breathe in its fresh, spicy scent. She liked to dream about the land where it had come from, and the people who had grown it. 

“One morning she awoke to the pale winter sun streaming in her window. When she lifted the fruit from her pillow, she noticed that the skin felt tougher, the flesh harder. Brown spots peppered the surface of the fruit. She brought it to her mother who clucked her tongue and told her to eat it before it spoiled. Her grandmother and sister agreed, for with the household in winter’s grip, they could not afford to waste food.” 

“Let me guess,” B’Elanna said. “Her brother offered to eat it for her.” 

Chakotay smiled. “Of course. What else are brothers for? Her sister called her a moon-faced fool, and her grandfather said that allowing the fruit to spoil would be a sin against the earth that had gifted her with its bounty. But her father had a different opinion. He said that while the earth had made the fruit possible, he had been the one to give it to his daughter, and it was hers to do with as she liked.” 

“The girl thought over what each person had said. She discussed it with the sheep and mother earth. She mulled over the problem while she ate her evening meal. When father moon rose and she went to her sleeping chamber, she drew the fruit from her pocket. She placed it on the table beside her bed and went to sleep.” 

Chakotay paused and drew a breath, and B’Elanna fought down the urge to beat him to the punch line. She fidgeted in her chair, and he held up a restraining finger. 

“Time passed, and the girl forgot about the fruit, forgot about the question that had weighed so heavily on her mind. Her sheep grew round with wool, and when spring finally came, she was busy with the lambing. One evening, she noticed a hard brown lump on her table.” 

It was on the tip of her tongue to shout out, ‘the Caretaker?’ but she restrained herself. Please, Father Moon, she thought, make him get to the point soon. It crossed her mind that Harry was like a comet, sailing along placidly, doing his thing, shining brightly but only if you looked up and noticed. Of course, if Harry was a comet, stuck in his orbit, Tom Paris was the meteor that rained fiery death on the dinosaurs. 

Chakotay’s voice broke her reverie. 

“She reached out, remembering the bright, sweet fruit that her father had brought home so many months before. It was ruined now; it was hard and leathery and no longer beautiful. It no longer carried its sweet scent. In her indecision, she had missed the opportunity to taste the gift her father had given her.” 

B’Elanna waited a full twenty seconds, certain that Chakotay would continue. Finally, she blurted, “That’s it?” 

He shrugged. “That’s it.” 

“So… What you’re trying to say is that I’m missing out on life, on living, through my indecision. And that unless I stop working so much and start to socialize that I’ll look around one day and see that I’m old and shriveled and I’ve missed too many opportunities.” 

When he started to smile, she knew she’d over-thought it, as usual. Damn. 

“Actually,” he said, rolling the orange from hand to hand, “I was suggesting that you eat it before it spoils. Nothing lasts forever, not even in stasis. But I do find your interpretation interesting.” 

His voice had lost the smooth, rhythmic quality that it always took on whenever he launched into a story. Now he sounded like he was ready to shift into ship’s counselor mode. Or maybe ‘archeological dig’. She jumped to her feet. 

“Well, this was fun, but I’m supposed to be meeting Harry and Tom right now, so… Enjoy the orange.” 

“B’Elanna!” 

His voice stopped her in her tracks, and not just because he was the only person onboard who pronounced her name correctly. She turned and faced him. Faced it. For a moment, he appeared to be considering her offer, then he shook his head and tossed the orange to her. She caught it by reflex. 

“No, thank you. Neelix put it on your plate. You deal with it.” 

~~ 

This was… unnecessary. And ridiculous. And a waste of energy. She had a sneaking suspicion that the crew had crossed over from talking about her to laughing at her. Klingons didn’t like to be laughed at; it was a universal truth. 

B’Elanna rounded a corner in the corridor, musing on the grievous lack of entertainment aboard a ship this size. Voyager was huge by Maquis standards, but there was obviously nothing for anyone to do if they were spending their time discussing her! It was unfair. As if she didn’t stand out enough just being here. As if no one had anything better to do. She didn’t want to admit that she’d brought it on herself. 

She made another turn, heading toward the mess, and slammed into a solid, warm body. A grunt of surprise left her lungs, and she grabbed for the woman’s shoulders in an attempt to steady them both. Ensign Wildman. Great. At least she didn’t knock the ship’s pregnant woman on her ass. 

“Sorry! Are you alright?” 

“I’m sorry, Lieutenant. I didn’t see you.” 

Their apologies ran over each other, and Wildman smiled. “Are you still carrying that around?” She looked at the orange B’Elanna had clutched in her fist. 

B’Elanna’s eyes strayed to Wildman’s stomach. She felt the urge to ask her the same question. She was… huge. Distorted. Distended. She looked like she was ready to explode. She had outgrown her jumpsuit, and was now wearing some sort of maternity version of a two-piece ‘fleet uniform. It had never occurred to B’Elanna that one would exist, but of course it would, she chided herself. Women had babies all the time back home. The specs would be in the computer database. 

What had she said? “It’s, um, been a while since I’ve seen you. I guess.” 

“I’m a little hypoglycemic, so the Doctor has me eating at regular intervals. And he’s big enough that he’s constantly pressing on my bladder, so I’m usually either in the bathroom or the mess hall.” 

The Doctor? B’Elanna had no idea how to respond to that. “He?” It seemed a safe question. 

“Or she. I’m waiting to find out. I want to be surprised.” 

The baby. Of course. B’Elanna nodded. She looked over Wildman’s shoulder, and pointed to the bathroom door. “Going in or coming out?” she asked. 

Sam laughed. “Coming out. I’m good for at least twenty minutes.” 

“So.” Was this an indelicate question? B’Elanna had no idea. Gestation etiquette was beyond her. She plunged in. “When are you due?” 

“Actually, the Doctor’s not sure. I could have three more months, I could have six.” 

“Oh.” Six more months?!? It didn’t seem possible. Could a human stomach stretch that far? “Well, I was just on my way to the mess hall.” 

“So am I,” Wildman said. “Do you mind if I walk with you?” 

That took her a little by surprise. “Of course not.” She tossed the orange in the air and caught it as they walked. 

“I’m surprised you haven’t eaten that yet,” Sam commented. 

B’Elanna looked at the orange. “Oh, I… Do you want it? You could probably use the vitamins more than I could.” 

The mess doors opened and they walked in. “Tell you what,” Sam said, “I’ll share it with you.” 

B’Elanna stopped and considered. “You don’t have a wager on this, do you?” Her eyebrow arched in suspicion. 

“A what?” 

Wildman seemed genuinely perplexed. Good enough. “Never mind. Let’s grab a table.” 

~ 

Tom leaned against the serving counter, tracking their path toward a table near the observation window. ‘I’ll be damned,’ he thought. 

“Here you go,” Neelix sang. “A hearty helping of Fleuvian _netch_ bladder.” 

Tom didn’t even glance at his tray. “Neelix, look at that,” he said. He motioned toward the far table with his chin. While they watched, B’Elanna handed the orange to Sam, who proceeded to peel it in one long spiral. B’Elanna took the start of the peel between her thumb and forefinger and drew it out into one long strip, then let go. Both women smiled when it sprang back into a spiral shape on the tabletop. 

“Well, I’d never have guessed that.” Neelix sounded disappointed. “Though, I suppose it does make a certain amount of sense.” 

“It’s not over till it’s over,” Tom muttered. 

Sam broke the orange into halves and handed one to B’Elanna. They both pried off a section, and Sam popped hers into her mouth. B’Elanna was talking, smiling. She brought the orange section toward her mouth, and then lowered it again. Brought it up again, held it poised at her lips while she listened to Sam talk. 

Anticipation spiked. Tension climbed. The room felt like one huge live circuit. And then… B’Elanna popped it in her mouth, chewed, and swallowed. It was over, just like that. 

A collective breath was released. 

Tom groaned. “What did you have?” he asked Neelix. He drew a PADD from his pocket and thumbed it on. 

“Commander Chakotay, in his office. But I thought it would happen yesterday. How about you? 

“Tonight, her quarters. With me.” 

Neelix’s eyebrow rose in surprise. 

“Well, if I’m not there, how else could I confirm that she ate it in her quarters?” Tom tapped his temple. “Logic.” 

“Um hum.” Neelix responded. “Too bad you didn’t win. Who did win?” 

Tom perused the PADD. After a moment, he shook his head and laughed. “Kes: this evening, mess hall, Ensign Wildman. Do you think she cheated?” 

“It’s possible. Her powers are getting stronger.” 

Tom turned back to Neelix. “Really?” 

“Oh yes. But it’s unlike her to cheat.” 

“I dunno, Neelix.” He hefted his tray, and scanned the mess for a table for himself and Harry. He’d have to break the bad news. “Women are one of the great mysteries of the universe.” 

~~


End file.
